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[sweetsalome]

Salome should be used to these little question sessions with her mother, they have been happening for as long as she was able to talk.  Just little sit downs, called, unexpectedly by Susan to talk about her favorite subject: Salome's father.  Sometimes she is incredibly annoyed by them, really, she gives no shits but if Susan wants so badly to know what is going on in Richard's life why doesn't she just bug his house and tap his phone like a sane woman?

It took Salome awhile to catch on, Susan can be subtle when she wants, and there was a certain bitter sadness when she put two and two together.  She didn't want to really hear about her boring day, she just wanted to hear about Richard.  At this point Salome has long stopped caring about her mother.  The reason why she is a daddy's girl is out of necessity, without him no one would pay any attention to her.

Her reaction to Delilah would probably have not been so violent if there was a more evenness in her life.  Oh well.

Whatever, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a soda she just doesn't want to have to answer any questions about the recent appearance of bite marks on her skin.  God damn, you'd think the girls on the swim team had never seen a fucking hicky before.

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[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

At least she hasn't gotten into veganism. That would probably drive Richard insane. Although right now he's being driven plenty insane as it is--they don't know any better? Though generally he tends to agree that most other people are stupid and don't know any better, in this context, that statement includes his own carnivorous tendencies. However, considering the date, he's willing to let it slide. For now.

"Oh, I know, I'm a brute. The source of all your life's woes." Richard laughs, his grin widening as her giggling fills the air. Those feet wiggling against the sides of his lap are as adorable as her voice. "Come on, kiddo, this is my birthday vacation, too, we need to celebrate. We could glue streamers to the car and stick balloons on the top." Haha, yeah right, like he'd do that to his baby.

She has a point, though, he's too vain to mess up his hair, so, grinning, he reaches up to smooth it back. A strand slides back out of place immediately and he flicks a glance at himself in the nearest reflective surface. "You're right. If it has to be messed up, I'd rather have you do it than a party hat."

With a crooked smile that's wicked as he is, Richard leans forward to let her feed him, sliding the bite of salad from the fork with a sly look in his eyes as he leans back. Of those strange, random little moments that feed the flames of desire seemingly senselessly, this is somehow one of them. Maybe because it's so charming, her little habit. But whatever the reason, he gives her calf an affectionate squeeze and only lifts his hand when the steaks finally come out.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Oh God, no that would be horrible, that's like, where you don't eat anything, right? Because you are so filled with guilt and belief in your own awesomeness that you refuse to behave like a normal human being? No, Salome loves cheese way too much for that to even be an option. She will just stick to being mildly annoying when it comes to her eating habits, and really it's not so bad unless he starts teasing her about it and then she ends up looking like a douche.

"True, true, I'm glad you said it and I didn't have to," except she did. His comment about the car makes her laugh even more and then she shakes her head. "You'd never, if you did you would have to be totally sedated, I can't even imagine you putting anything on that car that wasn't factory approved of first." Like his hair, his car is apart of him, about of his image, that he would do something to ruin that would probably ruin him a little bit.

"I like holding on to your hair, it's just like when I ride my pony," and that statement is accompanied by a rather wicked look. He better nap in the car when she is driving because she is going to tackle him as soon as they get into that hotel room. Actually if he wants to sleep through that she'll be okay, only a certain part of him needs to be awake for that.

He eats a bite and she giggles helplessly, it's funny for some reason and probably not unlike her initial reaction when she first fed him all those years ago. She finishes off the salad and wipes her mouth before taking a long drink of her pop and pushing the bowl aside for the steak. Smells delicious.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Self-righteousness is so powerful that it can sometimes kill the need to eat because the ego can simply give the body all the calories it needs. Unfortunate side effects include forcing your opinions on people who don't give a fuck, and being a piece of shit.

He laughs, guilty as charged. "You can't blame me. Jezebel was my, ah-- she was a gift, I'm twice as obligated to take care of her. I don't want tape chipping off her paint."

Now that's one hell of a statement. His mouth opens silently, then closes and transmutes itself to that dark, roguish grin. In an instant his mind is gone, consumed by only the filthiest thoughts, and he glances askance while taking a sip of his drink.

Unfortunately for him, he's probably not going to be able to nap in the car. He's going to be alert as possible to try and micromanage her driving just in case something goes wrong. Not that he doesn't trust her, but, well--this is his baby driving 'his baby', the latter one being full of many important things including but not limited to clothes, an expensive surfboard, and some drugs. Therefore, he feels the need to keep an eye on her driving.

It'll be fine, though. That's what letting her ride him is for; he can relax and enjoy while she puts on a glorious show for him.

No matter how turned on he is, though, it doesn't stop him from teasing her--hell, it probably only encourages it. He watches her, and the very moment she starts cutting into his steak, he starts making sad little 'moo' noises from the corner of his mouth.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

That is one hell of a weight loss system. It's like the human version of bullshit fusion. A person, not unlike a star can last for millions or billions of years on it, depending on what kind of human they are. Unfortunately the biggest douche bags tend to last the longest.

"That is the craziest thing I have ever heard. That paint was probably created to withstand years and weather, it could probably handle a little tape. I mean this is industrial strength car paint, what kind of tape were you planning on using?" Oh man she could tease him forever about his love of his car. "I should be jealous of the car, clearly that's your first love," forget burning down his house, she'll take out the car. And of course it's named Jezebel. Is he sure that Susan named him and he didn't?

Richard, speechless? Yup, that's a point for her. She will savor that silently, that look that he gives her, she is pretty sure that his eyes just got darker and that just makes her smile more smug. The trip couldn't have come at a better time actually, she just got waxed, legs, neither parts. Not that she was out of control before, but for some reason riding lessons reminded her of recent sacrifice to the regime of beauty.

What - what - she looks at her steak and then up at her father, lips pursing slightly. That look she gets when she is really trying not to laugh at his bad behavior. This shouldn't be encouraged. "You're behavior is not appropriate for the dinner table, do you want to go wait in the car while I consume this noble animal?"

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"Yes, it was, and yet I still keep her in the garage." He chuckles, that mischievous grin having a hard time leaving his lips. "Don't be jealous of your older sister--if it's any consolation, if you were both in danger and I had to save one, I'd pick you. But don't tell her that, she'll get upset and stall on us." It was actually the car's original owner who named her, but Richard found it fit very well, indeed.

If she goes anywhere near that car as a matter of vengeance he's going to have an aneurism and strangle her. So, you know, clearly it would be an effective strategy.

He noticed that in the car, or at least caught a hint of it through the bliss that comes with touching her. No doubt he's looking forward to seeing her tonight. Hell, he's probably already seeing it now, those eyes of his could burn a hole straight through her clothes.

At her threat, Richard smothers a grin of his own and gives her a look of pure-as-the-day-he-was-born innocence, his eyes big and his brow furrowed in honest confusion. "What behavior is that, Salome? I'm only enjoying my steak. Besides, you're the one with your feet up." He smiles, reaching forward under the table to squeeze her knee. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm behaving perfectly well."

Glass lifted to his lips, he once again assumes that innocent look, about the same time there's another, pained little 'moo'. Off behind Salome's head at the other side of the restaurant, their waitress waves until Richard spares her a glance without turning his head and indicates ten minutes with her fingers. He nods imperceptibly as soon as he can without drawing Salome's suspicion, and the woman vanishes back into the kitchen.

With the greatest nonchalance imaginable, Richard removes his cell phone from his pocket and gives a little hum as he glances down to it, then sets it aside on the edge of the table as if to ignore it properly.

You see? He's behaving so well he won't even answer the text message or whatever it was he just allegedly received, too busy focusing on his daughter. And his mooing noises.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"Oh right, I bet you tell her something completely different when you're alone with her. I know how you work dad, caressing her, purring to her how she is your one and only. Please." Men and their cars she doesn't understand it at all, it's just a machine. Though it does run well and gets them where they need to go so she certainly can't complain. What she will do is give him a hard time about his obsession with an inanimate object. And he will give her a hard time about her steak.

"You keep that up and I'm not going to eat this and then you'll be mad, do you want to be mad? Because you'll be so mad." And then she'll have to kick his ass. Actually she won't but the next time he moos at her she is going to pinch him with her toes. She can do that, there is a gap between her big toe and second toe and it is really useful for a number of things. Picking things up from the floor, peeling bananas and of course pinching people.

He is totally killing her carnivore boner and she hasn't even taken a bite yet. JERK!

She looks over at him when he fiddles with his phone as she starts poking his thigh with her big toe and finally cutting into the steak. If she caught the little exchange between her father and the waitress she doesn't let on, mainly because she didn't catch it. He was being quiet and it was the perfect moment to actually cut a bite off her steak and take a bite without hearing him have to moo like he just swallowed one of those noise making toys.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Tsk, now. It's more than just a machine; it's a memento, and a partner. Something to that he takes care of, and in return, it takes him where he needs to go. And it never complains. A better partner than that, he couldn't begin to imagine. "You can't blame me for my love affair, princess, the lines of her body alone are irresistible."

Of course he'll be mad--or annoyed, anyways. Although he'd happily finish it for her if she's going to outright reject the thing. But then she takes a bite, and he reacts with a theatrical gasp, his hand landing on his heart.

"Are you going to be okay? I don't need to take you to the hospital after a bite of steak like that, do I?" He laughs, swatting her poking foot and tickling the sole before finally attending to his own steak, which is a purple-red horrorshow of practically-raw meat. This is a steak that had the word 'fire' whispered at it before it was put on a plate and served, and he groans. "Oh, God, who needs women? A man just needs steaks cooked like this and a car and he can die happy."

Chuckling, Richard chews up his bite and swallows it with a sigh. "Beautiful. You will never find a salad as delicious as this. The immorality makes it all the more magnificent."

This is clearly the case with many things in his life.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"But it's not real, I mean you can't have a conversation with it, you can't make love to it. It's just a machine." Oddly enough she doesn't want to think about her father getting hard over a car. Him getting hard in the car and then fucking her, well that's just fine and dandy, apparently sexual arousal over a car is just a line that she is not willing to cross because she has standards. Or something like that.

Chewing thoughtfully she narrows her eyes at him. "You might have to, because I am going to stab you with my steak knife if you don't stop teasing me." Ah, a reoccurring motif in their relationships, a steak knife. It's like Chekov's gun, introduced in act one, might make use of it in act two. Though lets hope not, because last time that happened Salome got cut, and really steak knives are great for cutting into already dead things but not live human beings.

"You need women," she reminds him. "There are certain things that dead meat and cars just can't give you, and I hope you know that, dad." She won't admit it out loud, but this is a delicious steak, and there are some really good salads out there but it's hard to hold a candle to this right here. The seasonings are just where it's at and it's just perfectly cooked through.

Not that she is going to admit that to him.

She tries to maintain her position none the less, sniffing and looking down her nose at him playfully, "Mr. Vasko I don't know how you sleep at night." And then she giggles, because she knows just how he sleeps at night.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"Ah-ah, of course you could have sex with a car. What else is the tailpipe for?" He cracks up at that one and buries his face in his hand, sniggering like a schoolboy. Then, cradling his cheek in his hand, he grins across the table at her. "I love teasing you, it's just the best hobby. You make it too easy for me, sweetheart. If you don't want me teasing you, don't ask for it."

Ah, victim blaming. Just as easy as actually teasing her.

Richard reaches beneath the table and pinches her calf at that one, arching a brow. "Ah-ah, there shall be no stabbing of your father, young lady, nor joking about doing so. I don't want to have to ground you for the rest of your life." And by 'ground her', he of course means 'lock her in a cellar'. Suddenly there's that wicked look in his eyes again. "Knives are only toys in special circumstances."

Considering the fact that she was overcome with the urge to stick a paintbrush in his neck last week, he'd rather head future stabbing urges off at the pass. And that includes jokes about stabbing him. No matter how oddly sexy he finds them. Granted, his attempts probably won't do much good to quell stabby urges, but hey, at least he's trying, right?

"Well," he says, his grin returning with just a hint of a leer, "maybe you should pay attention tonight, babydoll. Then you can find out."

In the back of the restaurant, one waiter trails into the kitchen, and then another, and it's almost go-time. He glances innocently down to his phone, fingertip swiping across the touchscreen. "Speaking of, I need to find some motels and call them to make sure they have rooms. Ones we can be at by...oh, let's say nine or ten."

Yeah, totally looking up maps. That's exactly what is happening right now. He's not getting ready to start up the camera. Nope. Lookin' for places to stay.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Oh my goodness, the eye roll that earns him. "You better not have had sex with that car, we should get you tested." For car HIV, apparently everything has HIV these days. No, she knows that he is teasing her and it kills her a little bit that he does it so well. Parents are the best trolls ever. Everyone on the internet can't hold a candle to troll parents, they are just born with something deep down, a sense that allows them to know how to perfectly troll their child. It might be a little easier in Salome's case because she is just precious with her delicate sensibilities. A good liberal youth were everything is an offensive to everything.

She is like a walking white whine. Though not that bad, she does have rational moments. He spoils her but she would like to think she doesn't act like a spoiled brat - all the time.

That makes her eyebrow lift, "what kind of special circumstances are those?" Because inquiring minds would like to know, and would like to know when they are appropriate and when they aren't. He will probably show her one day and she will be a great many things physically and emotionally when he does. Like when his fingers wrapped around her throat and started to squeeze. Sometimes when she thinks back about that night she is only surprised she wasn't upset about it afterward.

"I'm pretty sure you sleep at night because you're too tired to stay awake after you fuck my brains out, dad." A bite down on her bottom lip and she runs the side of her foot up the length of his thigh and then back down again, caressing him with long strokes of her foot. No matter what they are talking about it always seems to wind up back with sex. She can't help it, he's triggered something inside of her, any man she is with after him better have the sex drive of a rabbit.

"Make sure whatever hotel you pick isn't terrorized by crazed serial killers, I would like to enjoy the rest of the week with you and not hiding in a closet covered in blood." Where does she get her imagination?

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Well, he's had seventeen years to know exactly how to tease, torment and otherwise embarrass her. A talent that has been developed and nurtured, and will continue to be expanded until the day he dies. Besides, he can't help but take advantage of those delicate sensibilities, particularly when he has absolutely none of his own.

It's just a survival lesson, really. The more of his teasing she's able to survive, the thicker a skin she'll grow. She should thank him.

"Oh," he offers a sly smile, lifting his drink to his lips, "the kind of circumstances where two people trust each other a great deal. But it's not really restaurant conversation, darling girl." And other, more horrible circumstances, but she doesn't need to know about those.

Also not really restaurant conversation, nor restaurant behavior, that foot, and he exhales into his glass, his jaw clenching and clenching while his eyes never leave her. "You do have a way of taking it right out of me, babydoll, I'll give you that."

So now he can't stay at his own hotel! Technically he's not crazed, but still, it's the principle of the thing. Richard cracks up, lowering his glass and shaking his head as he slides through more screens on his phone. "I promise to make sure that the Bates family doesn't own any place we stay at."

While the camera application loads, he speaks without looking up. "I hope your steak isn't filling you up too much. It'd be a shame if you didn't have any room." It's about then that the restaurant lights dim, and Richard glances up with an evil grin, hitting the 'record' button on the screen and lifting his phone while all the servers march out en masse, chanting their public domain edition of 'happy birthday' and clapping in time like a group of inbred monsters ready to perform their annual human sacrifice. Somehow the gigantic slice of chocolate cake with the sparkler in it in lieu of candles only adds to the effect, and Richard struggles to keep from laughing too hard, intent on keeping the camera straight to capture Salome's every reaction.

They're coming to get you, Bar-- er, Salome.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

That's called having an unfair advantage. Just watch it old man, one day you'll be weak and feeble and she'll have to put you in a nursing home. How you treat her now will how she will decide which one to pick. No, he could tease her and tease her and she would still take care of him till the day that he died. She just might hasten it with a pillow to his face. A pillow that reads: TROLOLOLOLOL.

"I like how you draw the line there when it comes to dinner conversation." It's probably a good stopping point, knife and blood play during sex is not something that is really suitable for the dinner table. Car fucking and incest clearly are, but then again it's pretty much how they've been spending their free time lately, so it's not so unbelievable that those topics of conversation are okay.

"I would appreciate that," she likes his laugh, she thinks he should laugh more actually. Maybe it just seems like a rare occurrence to her, maybe she just hasn't been paying attention. It seems like a long time since she got a honest laugh out of him.

Weird.

Wieirder.

Whoa, what, holyshit . . . If she looks surprised it's because she is, and maybe a little frightened. It's not something you want happening to you, lights going dim in a restaurant where a large number of zombies could be lurking about in the shadows. Hillbilly zombies which are really fucking scary if you think about it. When the shock wears off she is glad for the dim light of the restaurant because she is blushing and really wanting to just kind of shrivel up and die right there on the spot. There should be an emergency release button on this booth so she could just sink down into oblivion.

It's really kind of creepy actually.

Maybe a little sweet.

Totally embarrassing.

When they finish and all start clapping she watches the sparkler burn low on the little stick, is she supposed to blow it out or just let it run it's course? "Thank you, thank you, that was lovely . . ." because she wants to be polite before she dies of utter mortification. Someone with obvious missing teeth is totally going to come up to her and make a comment, she just knows it. The problem is, they are just being nice but it's just so creepy, it's hard to know what to do in situations like this.

Besides make a face at your troll dad.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Oh, yes, yes, this couldn't have been any more perfect. It's like he can taste her embarrassment in the air around her, he doesn't even need to see her coloring to know she's blushing. He'll drink in your humiliation like it's sustenance, Salome, and any time he needs to recharge he'll just watch the video again.

The cake is practically the size of her head--no shock there, going by the size of some of the other patrons of the fine establishment--and once the staff finishes singing and returns to their usual business, the lights come back up and Richard is left grinning ear-to-ear at his daughter.

"Now how could they have known it's your birthday! How strange." Richard attempts to assume a befuddled face but soon loses it to a spell of sniggering. Instead, he reaches across the table and plucks up her hand to draw her knuckles to his mouth for a lingering kiss. "Happy birthday, princess."

It's easier to be genuine before her, now. Richard may say that he feels as though he's learning all these new things about her, but it may simply be because, not only does he see her in a different light, but because she now has the chance to learn new things about him. Suddenly it's easier to relax around her, to give her glimpses of his true face, or a truer face than his usual. So it's easier to relax, easier to laugh genuinely, or as genuinely as it comes for him, anyway.

He is cruel, and vile, and completely irredeemable, but he has a soft spot for Salome that has expanded a great deal in the past week. This is a bad, horrible relationship, but that only makes it seem beyond good to him. After all--what love is purer, what relationship closer, more important, than that of a father and is daughter? He can't give her romance, no, and won't pretend to, but he can give her this. And having a father at this age is more important than receiving romantic closure.

Objectively, he is aware that he is a terrible bastard, a monster, a horrible father and a foul human being. But these are the opinions engrained in society, the mindset produced by slave morality, and he happily ignores them in favor of his own, far more enlightened moral perspectives.

In short: fuck the haters, he's never felt so close to his daughter in seventeen years. And that's something, because he always felt fairly close.

Grinning, Richard squeezes her hand, then releases it. "You're so adorable when you blush I can't even stand it."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

She doesn't even know how to react or what to say to him after it is all over. So she sort of just stares at him and does some open mouth gapes like she just can't believe that happened. Which isn't far from the truth, she can't believe that it just happened, and can't believe that there is now this giant sized piece of chocolate cake in front of her with a slowly smoking sparkler sticking out of it. Oh my god she isn't going to be able to fit into her pants after this meal.

Shaking her head at him she pulls the sparkler from the cake and takes a taste of the frosting with her finger. Not bad, it is obviously home made. "I can't believe you, that was just unreal." They are all probably nice people but that was a damn near terrifying experience. He kisses her hand and she blushes a little bit all over again, shaking her head still and now she is giggling because she is still embarrassed and has no idea how else to react. It's been awhile since a whole group of waiters and waitresses sang to her.

"You're a little bit crazy, you know that right? I don't know why you do things like this. If I ever have kids, and I won't, but if I do I won't ever embarrass them like this for their birthday." Awh yeah, she would, because it's a parents right.

"I can't believe you," she gives his fingers a squeeze and slips her feet off the boot so she can stand up and lean over the table to give him a kiss on the mouth.

"Thank you, this is a wonderful birthday."